War Paint
by BeckyNab
Summary: Our past is our creator, we are the present, the future is our creation. A tangled triangle of fates is what brings such balance of chaos and justice to Gotham. However there's a war coming and all those going to war must wear their war paint.


**Introduction**

"Welcome to the mad house, Detective." Dr. Hilton joked as she rose from her leather seat, gesturing her right hand to the brown fabric seats that were placed in front of her dark oak desk. The Detective complied by nodding her head, steadily walking to the suggested seat and taking her place. "I'm sure by now that Commissioner Gordon has explained to you why this may be a fantastic opportunity for us here at Arkham." She continued, sitting back down and adjusting her glasses, The Detective raised one of her dark chocolate shaded eyebrows, sucking her cheeks absent-mindedly, wishing that she wouldn't have to go through this torment. After the last few months she herself endured she would expect anyone to be in here with a straight jacket on.

The Doctor's constant calls to her home-line always ended up to voicemail, with her repeating message of wanting to meet in the Asylum at first, then to a local cafe that was within fifty meters from her flat. The Detective now realises that the Doctor's obsession to meet had come to crossing paths with the commissioner, urging him to see sense that this would benefit her, setting her at ease a bit.

Her eyes wondered around the room, inspecting every detail her hazel orbs found interesting. The Detective slumped further into the fabric, faintly sighing at the scene."You don't like it?" Dr. Hilton questioned as she joined her hands together, The Detective's eyes focusing back on her. The Detective noticed how smooth and calming her voice appeared when speaking directly at someone, anyone could easily class it sexy enough to be on a sex telephone line. She didn't dress like the rest of the psychiatrists running around this place with their lab coats or professional attire; She wore a casual murky green cotton jumper with black pants. Nothing special or attention worthy to the normal eye.

"I'm not much of a fan of being stuck in a hospital," The Detective replied, crossing her arms stubbornly.

"I would presume so, Detective... You were in Gotham General after all, " Dr. Hilton opened one of the draws to her bottom left, searching through the many files places within it. "That is, of course, before The Joker blew it up." The Detective huffed at her, Hilton grabbed a hold of one of the brown files and slid it across her desk until it was between the two individuals.

The room became silent, one staring at the file and the other analyzing her patient. "Not many people can say that they have been face to face with The Joker and live to tell the tale... But you can," Dr. Hilton opened the file to its first page where photos of the result of The Joker's reign over Gotham were spread across the page, The Detective's lips slightly quivered at chaos in its finest form. "That's why you're here, Detective..." The Detective's eyes slowly joined Hilton's "To help us understand The Joker."

"You've got to be shitting me," The Detective scrunched her eyes, raising the corner of her top lip into a snarl. "There isno way of understanding The Joker... To even **try** is madness in itself!" The Detective got up and grabbed a photo of the clown to demonstrate her point. She remembered being harassed by reporters of local tabloid companies, all trying to squeeze information from her. "I'm guessing that you have Dr. Arkham being his therapist then." She shook her head in disbelief that she was even discussing about the matter.

"Unfortunately not," Dr. Hilton walked across the room where a kettle and a few mugs were placed, switching it on and leaning against the marble counter, "I have had my apprentice study him-"

"-Apprentice?" The Detective suddenly interrupted, straining the word.

"Yes, Dr. Harleen Quinzel was rather intrigued with him; She was the only psychiatrist willing to take The Joker on in all of Arkham," The kettle whistled loudly in the room, "Coffee?" Dr. Hilton softly asked, The Detective answered with nodding her head, saying 'please' just loud enough to hear. "Her notes so far on him are **interesting**..."

"In what way?"

"That's the thing... There's no interesting or logical link to his motives. There are just his constant rambling," The Detective could only guess that The Joker was playing his little games again with the trainee, like he did with her. "She's been with him for two months, but I fear the worst for her Detective... She's different now," Dr. Hilton bowed her head to the ground, slightly shaking it, regretting her even allowing Harleen setting eyes on her, letting her ambition control her into obsession

"So what help will I be then? If the man himself won't explain why he acts the way he is, I won't do a better job." Dr. Hilton slowly strode back to the desk, passing one of the filled mugs to The Detective and taking a place back on her leather chair. She could clearly see now; They were desperate on anything to get a clearer picture of The Joker. She could already tell that this wasn't going to be the last appointment with her.

The Detective relaxed back in her seat, heavily slumped, appreciating the calm atmosphere that engulfed her, glancing at the red evening sun that was just about to settle into the night through the large rectangle windows. She sighed, taking a sip from the brown caffeine, placing one of her palms to rest against her head.

Ever since The Joker was captured, her mind has been tormented by nightmares of his face returning to her, to finish the job he so promised to her so long ago. Was she really ready to expose **everything** that happened during her kidnapping. It took her so many weeks to recover from her injuries that he inflicted on her, one especially still hurts when given the right pressure. Only in the last fortnight that she has been out on the field doing basic investigations and patrols that has consisted of petty theft and break-ins, which Gordon has signed her onto until further notice.

Maybe, just maybe, this could be beneficial to her after all- to get rid of those nightmares. It was worth a try.

"Can you promise me something?" The Detective's eyes gloomed with internal defeat as Hilton's rose with hope. "Whatever you hear, record or write... _ **anything**_... is to be confidential. Nothing leaves this room...ever!" The Detective's words were slow, it was a real struggle to actually speak them verbally to another person, she felt like she was edging closer, inch by inch, to the very edge of an abyss, risking an internal fall to view the unknown darkness.

Dr. Hilton nodded.

"What do you want to know?"

"Everything," The Detective's body stiffened at the thought of remembering it all, wishing that someone at one point would've hit her hard enough to forget the whole thing every time it was mentioned. "But I know that it can't be said all at once... **so**... let's start the day you met The Joker."

The day everything changed, and her fate was sealed with the scarred maniac.

She was ready.


End file.
